


Truth or dare?

by Anuna



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Happy Ending, Hydra what Hydra?, Prompt Fic, Smut, Some angst, everyone happy au, inapropriate jokes, no betrayal, rejection issues, season 1 based, skyeward smutfest 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 05:26:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6502417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anuna/pseuds/Anuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a mission Skye, Ward and FitzSimmons are killing time. What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth or dare?

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Do you think of me when you touch herself?", this is my first smutfest entry. I hope you enjoy it!

It was supposed to be just innocent fun, but really, Grant should have known better. Skye and innocent mixed about as well as oil and water did. Maybe she was starting to rub off on him and her usually terrible ideas had started to sound good? Or maybe he was getting soft with all that team bonding and scrabble games? Either way he agreed to play Truth and dare with Skye and FitzSimmons because they were at a hotel and they had another twenty four hours to kill and he wasn't going to fall asleep any time soon. So there he was spinning the bottle after several dares that made three of his colleagues laugh.

 

“Truth or dare, Ward?” Skye asked, eyes twinkling with decidedly evil gleam. She was bound on defeating him (whatever that meant – actually he should have known _what_ that meant), claiming that he couldn't possibly be better in human skills than her, and currently she was doing her best to somehow throw him off (they all were, to be honest, and that was adorable in a way, only it was so goddamn annoying).

 

“Truth,” he said without much thinking and grabbed his beer bottle. Fitz was curiously peering at him. One day Grant might have mercy and give him some pokerface lessons (as Skye called them). Simmons curiously glanced between them and grabbed more popcorn. They were sitting on the floor of her room, as if they were highschool kids, playing a game appropriate for that age. Grant begrudgingly humored three of them because of – well, just because. He didn't have an explanation good enough. Skye was trying to humiliate him and he was enjoying her attempts.

 

She licked her lips, took a sip out of her beer bottle and smiled.

 

He should have seen it coming. (Instead he took a sip of his own drink).

 

“So, Ward. Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

 

And there went his beer straight through his nose.

 

“What?” he coughed so hard he teared up and that bought him just a little bit of time, but it was futile. Skye was laughing victoriously.

 

“I'll take that as a yes, then,” she said.

 

“Oh my God, he's red in the face,” Fitz remarked. Grant felt the heat climbing up his neck well enough, but something in him defiantly refused to admit that yes, he felt embarrassed enough to blush.

 

“I am not,” he said.

 

“Oh you most certainly are,” Simmons smiled sweetly and pulled out her phone. Was she – Grant managed as much to blink before Simmons took a photo. Then she was typing. “There you go, Skye, solid proof of his downfall,” she said.

 

“Wait – what? You set me up?”

 

“We might have,” Simmons said, her face blankly innocent. Well, if someone on this team didn't need a poker face lesson, it was her.

 

Grant rarely lost control over his own actions, actually, he prided himself in his ability to make people believe what he wanted them to believe, but sometimes, more often lately, he found himself slipping.

 

Because of Skye.

 

(And he could see Skye's eyes growing huge with an apology he wasn't going to let her speak, and his legs were moving faster than her mouth could).

 

He shouldn't have gotten up and left then, but he did.

 

*

 

“Grant, open the door,” it was her, and she was insistently knocking.

 

She came running after him fairly quickly, which meant she was upset. He sighed and steeled himself for inevitable outburst of her emotional logic.

 

“What do you want, Skye?” he asked standing near the door and not intending to open. There should be lines, he thought. Movie nights and board games were awesome, but they were not friends. Could not be friends, because he was her supervisor and that meant responsible for her well being, training and her staying alive. She should not be distracted by other things (and neither should he).

 

“Grant, I'm sorry,” she said, predictably using his _name_ , which got him to sigh again (and also fight a pang in his chest). He could easily predict what she was going to do, but the thing was, he always, always ended up reacting exactly the way he _wasn't_ supposed to react. “That was a joke. Can you take a joke at your own expense?”

 

“That's not the point, Skye,” he said, feeling exhausted and basically pathetic because he was giving her a speech that was starting to sound lame to his own ears.

 

He knew what she was doing. She was teasing, of course. With a specific goal in mind. And he was still red under his skin, no matter how hard he tried to forget it.

 

“Then what is? What's the problem?” she was saying. Grant leaned against the door and took a deep breath, knowing that his silence would just spur her on. “Is there some kind of manual that says bad sex jokes are off limits among SHIELD agents?”

 

“You're not an agent yet,” he said lamely.

 

“Phffft. I get it. I offended your superior authority over me,” she said, and her hurt and upset tome didn't sit well with him.

 

“That's not it, Skye,” he replied. “There are lines you and I shouldn't cross.”

 

Which was another colossal mistake that he realized only after the words left his mouth.

 

“Oh I see,” she was saying, and he could imagine the heat rising up her cheeks and the flame of the argument in her eyes. “So the problem isn't that I insulted you, or some protocol. The problem is that I hit a nerve, and you're too chicken to face me and say, _yeah Skye, I like you but I can't fuck you -_ ”

 

He said _something_. Or he tried, he wasn't sure, because his ears were ringing and his cheeks and neck were hot because he wasn't used being exposed like this to someone, let alone a tiny rookie girl. He was supposed to be the smarter one, the level headed one, but she wasn't quitting, she was talking and her words were running into one another, blurring together and he had to stop her. He _had_ to, before he opened the door and did something stupid. But he waited too long, because that was when she said that one thing he was really better off _without_.

 

“I'm not laughing at _you_ , Ward. I'm laughing at this whole ridiculous situation because _I think of you too.”_

 

That was when his brain stopped working.

 

She was standing in front of his door, flushed from her passionate reasoning and, possibly, one drink too many. (And it wasn't like he didn't drink, he did. That was probably why he was doing one superbly idiotic thing after another.

 

_No, that was just an excuse_.)

 

“What... are you saying?” he asked instead of telling her to go to her room and get some sleep.

 

Her cheeks were red and her eyes were black and he couldn't stop staring at her. She defiantly pressed her lips, ready for whatever he might throw her way, just like at any time when their attitudes and opinions clashed – only this time there was a suspicious shimmer in her eyes.

 

“That I think of you when I touch myself,” she said, defiance never wavering, although he could sense something else too.

 

Because if he was exposed, the so was she. She was opening up and offering _something_ to him – her very vulnerability, a possibility of being hurt because she was trusting him with something so personal.

 

And if there was one thing he would always, always choose before anything else, it was to protect her. Even from his own closed off personal code of conduct.

 

Skye shook her head slightly, trying to hide something uncomfortable and bitter in her gaze.

 

“Hey, Skye, wait -”

 

“For what? You said it yourself, we shouldn't be -”

 

He finally stopped her before she said too much.

 

With his lips on hers.

 

She was breathing hard and fast when he was done. When they parted, both of them catching breath, the hurt from her face was gone, and she was looking at him like she was afraid to hope. His mind was working quickly with jumbled mess of information that he kept stored, about orphanage and foster families and what had to be a life of feeling rejected and unwanted. The desire to make everything absolutely fine for her was overwhelming, and if something was an absolute truth, then it was that he _wanted_ her – as a trainee or a fellow agent, or a friend – even if that was impossibly high order to ask for in his line of the job, so he was mindlessly stroking her cheeks with his thumbs and whispering something and her eyes were softening and then she was kissing him. All he could do was kiss her back.

 

( _He wanted her_. End of story.)

 

He pulled them through his door and closed it, Skye's back hitting the surface. Her expression changed and now she was watching him lustfully, her lips red and parted, her hair a mess that his hands made. She traced her tongue over her lower lip as he watched her undo the oversized plaid shirt that she seemed to love. He hated it. It was oversized and unflattering and doing all wrong things for him. His eyes eagerly followed her fingers as buttons went loose. Her bra was simple but to him much more appealing sight. She hooked a finger into the waistband of her jeans.

 

“Do you want to see what it looks like?” she asked. “When I touch myself?”

 

Ever the tease.

 

Sure he did, but his brain was short circuiting at that point and he was pulling her close, mouth open and hot on hers. She licked her way into his mouth, into his very breath and it felt intense just as a fuck would and all he could think about was _Skye, Skye, Skye_. He never kissed anyone like that before.

 

“ _I_ want to touch you,” he said, making good on his claim, his hands moving up her sides and over her breasts and then behind her back, because all that clothing had to go.

 

“That sounds good,” she was fumbling with his clothes and he decided to put her out of the misery by throwing his shirt away. Skye parted from him just to look at his upper body and that kind of appreciation felt strange because he didn't think much of himself and his looks. His body was there to work not to be admired but this, this felt... good. She ran a finger from his nipple down to his navel. “Fuck, you're so...,” she didn't finish. He didn't want her to ask what she meant, he just kept looking at her looking at him as if he was good enough to eat. “Come on, Ward,” she kept teasing, dragging him by his belt and moving blindly through his room until she found the bed.

 

She was pushing her jeans down. Her underwear was mismatched. She was fucking adorable and cute and _hot_ and he was a fucking idiot for doing this.

 

Then she threw her bra in the general direction of his head and missed. (He had to work on that aim of hers.)

 

And then she was taking off the rest. He had to stop. Stop and breathe and... _think_. Skye was sliding backwards over his bed and spreading her legs and him thinking about anything but fucking her wasn't going to happen. He was just halfway aware that he was taking off his clothes too.

 

She was going to touch herself right there on his bed. He watched as she palmed her own breast and slid her hand down her body and between her legs and then pushed two fingers inside herself. The thinking part of him was broken and his body desperately needed to move, needed to be with her, above her, inside of her. Her eyes were glazed as she watched his approach, lips parted and breaths shallow as she fucked herself with two fingers. He straddled her feet, his dick hard and raised and grabbed her wrist. Skye let him pull her fingers out and put them into his mouth.

 

“Do you like that?” he was sucking her wet fingers and she was wrapping her other hand around his dick, sliding beneath him to rub herself with the head of his dick. “Do you like _this_?”

 

He moaned, his need to push into her subdued to a twitch of his hips. She moaned. “Fuck,” she said, pulling her fingers out of his mouth so she could rub herself.

 

“Skye,” he groaned as she raised her hips to meet him again. He could feel himself slipping into her, into her heat. She was tight, but she was so wet and he met no resistance as he progressed inside until he was in all the way. She keened, eyes closed and back arching off the bed and nipples dark and stiff. He had to hold himself back, had to grab her hips and move slowly because he was big, he _knew_ he was big and he didn't want to hurt her but she was moaning and gasping and asking him to fuck her. He had to move. In and then slowly out, and then Skye pulled him down so she could kiss him, wet and dirty.

 

Her tongue did _things_ to him. His hips faltered, instead of going slow he slammed into her. “Fuck yes,” she said, pushing herself against him again.

 

“Fuck me,” she was gasping and he was moving his hips, pushing into her and they were kissing so hard he could barely breathe. “God, yes. _Yes_ , yes. Like _that_. Right _there_.”

 

Losing reason, he obliged her, head bowed to her shoulder like she was his dedication and religion, as if she was a goddess – and in all fairness she could have been, because she could dispel all of his training and self control with just one smile. He was the strong one but she had the control. His position on top was just an illusion, she had the complete power here to reduce him to his primal brain and the need to close his eyes and fuck her until they both couldn't walk. All his mind was able to register was her; _her_ cunt, _her_ breasts bouncing every time he moved, _her_ voice asking him to go hard and rough. Grant closed his eyes trying to hold on as she rubbed herself. Then she was coming, screaming and cursing and her hips peeling off the mattress and he just couldn't any more. Couldn't control any of it. Haze covered his mind as he exploded into her.

 

After, they were both trying to catch their breath. He slowly pulled out and Skye moaned at the loss. The reality came back, reminding him that he shouldn't have done it, that she was his _responsibility_ , not his fuckmate. Skye licked her lips, still swollen and red from their kissing. As If she could hear his thoughts, she angled her body away from him.

 

And this was it. This was why he shouldn't have done it. Because in the end it would just result in her feeling rejected.

 

And he _knew_ what that meant for her.

 

He couldn't stand that.

 

“Skye -”

 

“It's okay, Ward,” her tone was quiet, nothing like uninhibited please from just moments ago. Something in his chest _ached_.

 

“No, it's not – Skye, please look at me?”

 

She did. Slowly and deliberately and he realized that her face lost all of its teasing shine. Everything about her that seemed to render him powerless was somehow gone, leaving a sobered expression in its wake. Grant licked his lips and drew closer to her, both of them still naked on his ruined sheets. This was something he only saw a glimpse of, that time when she told him about her foster homes and the orphanage. The girl who hoped and lost too many times, and judging by the sadness in her eyes the loss of him was a no small matter to her. He shook his head and framed her face with his hands, brushed her cheeks with his thumbs, pulled her closer still so he could kiss her. Slowly and deliberately, consciously showing her that he wasn't about to turn his back on her.

 

“Ward,” she breathed against his lips. “I can't listen about how big mistake this was.”

 

“Okay,” he said.

 

“Okay? What do you mean okay?”

 

“Okay, you won't listen about it,” he said.

 

She pressed her lips together, her look hesitant and her skin warm and alluring. “But?”

 

“No buts,” he said patiently. “If you do something, you take responsibility for it.”

 

Her response was a confused and still vary gaze.

 

“That's me trying to say I wouldn't have done this if I didn't want it to,” he said.

 

She bowed her head. He grasped her chin gently and lifted her face to kiss her again. He did so again and again and again until he could see her muscles relaxing. Then a slow grin spread on her lips.

 

“Hey Ward?” she asked and he had to smile in return because this was her about to throw something teasing and probably dirty at him. Well, two could play that game. His kiss grew bolder and he moved so that he was pushing her down on the mattress again and she went easily.

 

“Yeah?” he said, settling above her and running a palm up her thigh. She started spreading her legs. _Yes_.

 

“That was damn good sex,” she said. He nodded, settling between her hips and pushing himself into her. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. _Fuck yes._ This time he was going to take it slowly, take her slowly. Skye moaned. He gave her an affectionate kiss before starting a leisured, gratifying rhythm.

 

“I'm glad,” he said. “Because you're about to get more of it.”

 


End file.
